A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry I didn't end up getting an update posted this weekend like I said I would. I got so close to posting Sunday night and then I flat out passed out on the couch. Whoops.
This next one is a bit longer to hopefully make up for it. Now you may read this and think, "Cows? Really?" To which I will reply, "Yes. Cows." (It's a metaphor, yo.) And yes, I did read an online informational manual about cattle as well as watch a short documentary on cattle rearing to help me write this chapter. :D
Enjoy! Let me know what you think about this sort of out there chapter. I've so much appreciated all of your reviews as well as all the follows and favorites. Thank you!
Ronon had learned to appreciate the sea breeze and constant sunny days on Atlantis, but every once in a while, he found himself longing for the change of the seasons. And so, he was glad that the atmosphere, or the magnetization of the poles, or whatever it was McKay had said about this particular world made it too difficult fly a jumper. It was a beautiful autumn day, the kind that reminded him of the annual hunting trips he used to take with his grandfather, or the pies his grandmother would make with the fruits of the fall harvest, or of the cold nights spent huddled around a fire surrounded by friends, Melena wrapped up in a knit blanket in his arms. Though it would take them significantly longer to explore the planet on foot, he'd much rather be outside, enjoying the crisp air and the rustle of dry leaves than the beeping insides of a ship.
He fixed his gaze forward and took in their new surroundings. Sheppard and Teyla, leading the pack, had just disappeared from sight over the crest of the hill they were climbing. McKay and Eva were safest in the middle, the latter clearly enjoying herself as she tormented the physicist about something – he kept covering his ears and moving away from her, only for her to break into a run, recover the distance between them, and repeat the whole process over again. At the snap of a TAC vest pocket next to him, Ronon looked down to see Rogers extract a small device, bring it to her lips, press down on the top of it, and breathe deeply.
"You need a break?" Ronon asked her, not entirely successful in keeping the condescension from his voice.
She dropped the device back into her pocket. "A break from what?" She had smoothed her hair out since going through the gate and the color had returned to her cheeks, but she still sounded hoarse.
"From all the walking," he gestured up the hill, "the hike…"
"No," she snapped with a shake of her head. "Do I look like I need a break?" Her green eyes locked onto his, awaiting a response to her question, and in that instant, he was stricken by how perfectly her features seemed to blend in with the golden and vermillion tree cover around them.
He shrugged.
"Because I'm not a man?" she persisted, suddenly offended.
He was taken aback by how quickly she had jumped at his throat. "Because you're a scientist," he retorted.
She scoffed in response.
"And because of that thing you just used."
"I have a medical condition," she said defensively.
"Seems like a lot of you scientists have 'medical conditions,'" he murmured.
"Whatever," she muttered with an eyeroll that he more felt than witnessed.
They walked in silence after that until McKay's annoyed voice called from up ahead. "The hell is this?!"
Ronon and Rogers glanced at one another, then jogged the remainder of the way to the top of the hill until they met up with the rest of the team. Below was the source of McKay's consternation: a herd of cattle in a field at the edge of the forest were packed tightly together in one large mass, completely blocking their path.
Colonel Sheppard made moves to approach the herd, but Rogers called to him.
"I wouldn't do that, Colonel!" she warned.
"They're just cows!" he called back.
"Alien cows," she replied as she closed the gap between them. "Dairy cows back on Earth have been bred for centuries to be calm and gentle. You don't know if these creatures will be the same."
Sheppard sighed, put his hands on his hips, and looked at her as if to say, "You got a better idea?"
"Besides," she pointed toward the herd, "you see those with the horns? Those are bulls. Bulls and cows don't normally herd together unless the females are in estrus."
"Meaning?" McKay said as he crossed his arms in impatience.
"It's breeding season," she explained.
"And how precisely do you know all this?" he asked with derision.
"I was raised on a horse ranch and our neighbors down the road had cattle. We used to help them drive the cows and they'd pay us back in milk and beef for the favor."
"All right," Sheppard said. "I get it. Don't get between a gentleman and his lady. So then what do we do?"
Ronon unholstered his blaster. "We could shoot 'em," he smirked.
"We are not shooting the cows!" Rogers shouted in disbelief.
"What if we laid down some warning fire?" Sheppard suggested.
"No," she answered. "That'll just spook them. They'll either herd even tighter together…"
"Safety in numbers," Eva muttered.
"…or they'll charge." Rogers surveyed the expanse of dark hides and swishing tails. "If this many of them charge, it'll sound like an entire freight train barreling through the valley."
"Perhaps we should just go around them?" Teyla suggested.
Sheppard climbed back to the top of the hill and pulled out a small pair of binoculars. He shook his head as he descended. "There's too many of 'em. They go as far as I can see on either side. Going around will take way too long."
The cows bellowed almost in response and they started to close the gaps between them.
"Oh, for God's sake!" McKay whined. "It's like they know we're talking about them!"
"Well with you talking that loudly, I bet it's hard for them to ignore," Sheppard fired back.
Ronon heard a click to his left and glanced down at Rogers, who had pulled out her sidearm and taken off the safety.
He raised an eyebrow at her. "So we are gonna shoot the cows?"
"What?" she asked, slightly distracted as she studied the trees behind them. "No. For the last time, we are not shooting the cows," she whispered. "Everybody quiet."
"What is it?" Teyla asked.
"There's something in the trees," Rogers answered.
"How can you tell?" McKay asked in his normal volume, clearly still doubting her.
"The herd senses a threat," she explained. "Do you see how the bulls have migrated to the outside of the herd, while the calves have been shifted to the center? Their eyes are wide, their ears are up, and they've moved in closer together," she explained.
"All right, everyone. Weapons out," Sheppard ordered.
"You should probably take them off the automatic setting," Rogers suggested, "unless you want a stampede."
They waited in tense silence, listening carefully to the forest, the steadiness of the soft autumnal wind punctuated only by the distress calls of the cattle. A rustle of leaves to the east caught Ronon's attention. He noticed that Rogers, too, had heard it.
He had glanced down at her for the briefest of moments, but in that time had missed his shot. A large cat-like animal had emerged from the trees and made its run for the herd. Before it could get far, there was a loud gunshot from his left and the animal collapsed to the forest floor.
The cows' cries got louder. The bulls stamped their hooves. Not a member of the team moved a muscle.
Eventually, the herd relaxed, and so did they. Rogers looked up at Ronon and they both made their way to the predator, guns still cautiously pointed toward it. Blood spilled from a gunshot wound just above its right shoulder. Ronon prodded it with the tip of his boot but it neither twitched nor made a sound. It was dead.
"Nice shot," Eva complimented her as she came up behind them.
Ronon had to agree. It was well placed – the bullet had immediately destroyed both the heart and the lungs – enough to kill the animal but cause it no unnecessary suffering. He had no idea she was that talented a marksman.
"Right in the boiler factory," Eva continued, "…as Grandpa would say."
"Yep," Rogers sighed. "Bit of a bigger target than the coyotes I learned on."
"Got more meat on it, too," Eva commented. She looked up at Ronon. "Think you could carry this thing around till dinner time?"
Sheppard interrupted before he could answer. "Nice work!" he said with surprise.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," McKay shouted. "Not so fast! What if these things travel in packs?"
Ronon bent down to inspect the dead cat. "We're good," he affirmed, standing back up and brushing his hands against his pants. "Looks like a leukogat."
"I agree," Teyla concurred. "There is no need to worry, Rodney. They are solitary hunters."
"Plus, look at the herd," Rogers added.
They all turned to see the cows had indeed begun to loosen up and disperse, but not so much that all six of them could successfully pass; they still needed to clear a wider path. Rogers scanned the forest floor and found a large stick. She headed toward the herd, stick in hand.
"I thought you said approaching them was a bad idea," Shepard reminded her.
"It is," she conceded. "Especially if you don't have herding experience. But what else are we gonna do?" she shrugged. She went cautiously to the edge of the herd and started poking and prodding at the cattle. "Come on cows," she coaxed sweetly. "Let's go. Outta the way. Just for a second."
The cows began to move apart at her nudging until finally a small, three-foot wide section had been cleared.
Rogers motioned to the group that they should begin to cross. "Try not to get directly behind any of them," she said in a soothing, but warning tone. "If you have to, make sure you touch the cow first while it can still see you, then run your hand along its rump until you've passed. Make your way to the fence and jump it. They won't charge the fence."
One by one, with Rogers accompanying each of them the whole way, the members of the team trod carefully from forest to fence through the small berth she had created. Eva being the youngest was the first escorted to safety, then McKay, and then Teyla.
"All right, Chewie," Sheppard said as Rogers returned from her third trip. "You're up."
"You're the leader," he argued. "You should go join your team."
Rogers volleyed her gaze back and forth between the two men.
"Captain always goes down with the ship. I should be last."
"Good thing you're Colonel Sheppard and not Captain Sheppard, then," he smirked.
"Oh my God," Rogers complained. "Just nose goes it and get it over with. We don't have all day."
"Rock, paper, scissors, then," Sheppard suggested.
"What?" Ronon spat.
"Rock," Sheppard held out a fist, "paper," he stretched his hand out flat, "or scissors," he extended his index and middle fingers. "Ready?"
"What?" Ronon repeated. But before he had a chance to ask for clarification of the directions, Sheppard was already balling his hand into a fist and starting the game.
"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot," Sheppard chanted. He held out two fingers.
Unsure of exactly how the game went, Ronon had left his hand curled into a fist.
"Dammit," Sheppard muttered. "Shoulda seen that coming."
So he had won?
"All right. See you on the other side." And with that, Rogers next shepherded Sheppard to safety.
Finally, it was Ronon's turn to pass. Now comfortable with their presence and accustomed to the ceremony, the cows hardly needed any coercing from Rogers's stick to move out of their way.
"Nice cows," she said, stroking one down the length of its spine as they walked alongside it. "Just keep munching on that tasty grass…"
They were within sight of the fence and the rest of their team when, out of the mass of brown and white fur, a large, dark bull emerged and blocked their way. It lowered its head and horns directly at them.
"Whoa," she said in a low voice, backing up and colliding softly with Ronon's chest. "Nice boy," she cooed. "Good boy. I'm not here to hurt you."
Ronon lifted his blaster over the woman's shoulder and aimed it at the bull.
"That better be set to stun," she warned him in the same measured tone she was using with the bull. "We just need to pass," she told the beast, advancing slowly upon him.
The bull pawed at the ground and rubbed its face in the dirt.
"Shit," she hissed. She held her stick up in the air like a bludgeon and made herself look as large as possible while it glared at her. "Listen up, motherfucker!" she yelled at it, true anger seeping through her voice. "You will let me go!"
Ronon got the distinct but odd impression that her words weren't exclusively meant for the bull in front of them.
They continued to slowly edge past the massive animal while it followed their every movement with its eyes.
"You come at me and I will knock you so hard you'll see tomorrow today!"
After what she'd said about the sound of automatic gunfire potentially causing a stampede, he wouldn't think yelling at the top of her lungs would be a great tactic, but the bull retreated a bit every time she hollered at it. Ronon wouldn't go near her if she were yelling at him like that, that was for damn sure.
"Don't make me tan that hide of yours!" she bellowed.
The bull backed away, but she kept her stick held high in the air, walking slowly toward the fence.
"Go now, Ronon," she whispered. "Slowly."
He hesitated. Something about leaving her and the beast alone, with only a branch to defend herself didn't sit right with him.
"Now," she insisted, "while I've still got him under control."
His stomach in knots, he started to make his way to the edge of the pasture.
Sensing that Ronon was close to safety, Rogers also began to sidle toward the fence, but with her eyes and attention so focused on the bull, she missed a cow immediately to her left. She accidentally took it by surprise from behind and it defensively launched its back hoof at her, kicking her right in the leg. She crumpled to the ground from the blow and the bull, taking advantage of her weakness, charged at her.
Ronon reacted immediately. He fired his gun directly at the bull and it fell to the Earth with a ground-shaking thud, a mere foot away from Rogers. He ran over to her, lifted her to her feet, hoisted her over his shoulder, and made a break for the fence. He passed Rogers over the barrier to Teyla, then hurdled over it himself.
From behind the rickety and rotting barrier, they waited with baited breath as the herd snorted and grunted with panic. But Rogers was right; the cows did not dare to charge the fence.
Teyla propped Rogers up against the railings. "Are you all right?" she asked, examining her injury.
Rogers winced but nodded. "Not the first time I've been kicked," she revealed as she gently palpated her upper leg. "It missed my kneecap, which is good. The thigh and the ass are probably the two best places to get kicked," she laughed, "so I'll count myself lucky."
"I take it Cow is not one of the sixteen languages you speak?" Sheppard asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I thought I did," she grimaced, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "Guess I need to brush up on the Pegasus dialect," she joked.
Ronon realized he had been holding his breath and, upon hearing the rest of the team laugh, finally let it out.
She looked over to him. "Thank you," she said quietly.
He stared at her for a moment, and then nodded. She was unlike any other scientist he knew.
A/N: Thank you again! Hope you liked it. :)